


Purple, to Red and Blue

by Scytale



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 12:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20506751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scytale/pseuds/Scytale
Summary: After Odysseus leaves, Hermes offers Calypso some comfort.





	Purple, to Red and Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).

Calypso sat upon the cliff over the sea, the wind stirring the soft grass she rested her feet in. Seals darted in the surf, and the birds of Ogygia sang sweetly from above her, but her eyes were fixed on the distant horizon.

“He reached Ithaca,” Hermes said. She hadn’t heard him approach. He sat down beside her, looking at the waves that crested against the cliff wall. “He killed the intruders in his home and took back his throne. They’ll sing of his return for centuries beyond counting.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, knowing that he’s returned to his wife and son?”

Hermes shrugged. “I thought you would want to know.”

She did.

Calypso had wept and raged when Odysseus left her, sailing for the happy return the gods had planned for him, but she hadn’t blamed him. She supposed she could be happy for him, even.

“Thank you,” she said.

Hermes’s cloak fluttered in the wind.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t have brought you that message. I’d fix it all for you, if I could.”

His form shimmered and wavered. The shape of the handsome youth in the winged sandals gave way that of a broader man. His hair and beard was russet, threaded with grey, his eyes dark and clever, and his face so familiar that she ached.

It was Odysseus’s low voice that spoke to her, in gentle words touched with an Ithacan accent.

“I can’t give him back to you, Calypso,” he said. “But I can still make sure you won’t have to grieve alone.” The form of Odysseus cupped her cheek; he watched her lips, and in spite of herself, her desire rose, sweet enough to steal her breath.

She kissed him hungrily. His lips still tasted as she remembered.

“Shut up,” she said. “I don’t want to hear you speak. Only him.”

He drew in a breath then; his eyes watched her with awe and desire. “Then, please, Lady Calypso, let me leave.” he said. “Let me build a boat and go home.”

“No,” she said. “You’re mine. So worship me.” She ran her hand possessively through his beard, and then reached for his hand, bringing it down to undress her. He obeyed, and when she was naked, he undressed himself and laid his cloak down to be a bed.

She didn’t know whether it was fantasy or revenge that motivated her when she lay back, spreading her legs for him and pulling him down by his hair to force him between her legs. He bent before her willingly, his clever tongue flicking and swirling against her, exciting her. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder until she felt wetness against her fingertips; he shuddered, and the sweetness of his tongue and the knowledge of his pain made pleasure rise in her, until it came crashing over her like the waves against the rocks. She arched, baring her throat as she cried her lover's name.

He’d stopped. She sat up and pushed him down against the cloak onto his back.

“Calypso,” he said, and to silence him, she pressed her mouth against his cock.

He gasped and she took him deep into her mouth, sucking and licking. He was hers to claim and hold, to possess and ruin, and he moaned, his hips thrusting helplessly. She took him in deeper, until he came into her mouth.

She climbed over him then, straddling him, and bent her head to kiss him. His seed was still in her mouth; she thrust her tongue into his mouth and forced his own seed into his mouth. He swallowed his own come and triumph rose in her.

Between her legs, he was hardening again — endurance, like a god's. She smiled, tasting salt still in her mouth. “Could any other woman do this for you?”

“No,” he rasped. “No. No one else." He raised his head slightly. "Do that to me again, and I would give it all up. My home, my duties, all for you. Only say the word.”

And the illusion shattered.

“He would never have said that,” she said, getting off of him.

When she looked back, Hermes wore his own appearance, golden-haired and handsome. His cock was hard, but his face was calm and carefree.

“I thought I would improvise,” he said.

Calypso felt cold — she, who never needed to wear a cloak for warmth, who could swim in the arctic waters without feeling a thing.

“It was kind of you,” she said. His golden ichor stained her fingertips; she wiped them into the grass and rose. She pretended she didn't notice his eyes upon her, as she dressed. “I should return to my house, Lord Hermes. Thank you for the company.”

Hermes looked up at her, his eyes the same clear blue as his father’s sky.

“It was my pleasure, as well,” he said. “If you want to do this again, send me a message.”

The waves crashed against the cliff walls; she left him and his invitation behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the nonnie who suggested "like purple returned to blue and red". Thanks, nonnie!


End file.
